


Raktajino Invitations

by Kasamira



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Angst, Attempted Seduction, Bad Flirting, Dialogue, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, Mostly Dialogue, Seduction, This idea was originally cracky, but then I couldn't stop writing, the promenade, wink - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:54:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26979892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasamira/pseuds/Kasamira
Summary: Raktajino's not raktajino, raktajino is sex!Garak pretending to be oblivious, Bashir spelling it out, and Garak finally making the subtext text.With the Promenade as their captive audience.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	Raktajino Invitations

**Author's Note:**

> This... is not what I set out to write. I was going to write a 300 word or less drabble on Bashir winking in front of Garak and him being utterly bewildered. I am not quite sure what happened. Apologies for spelling errors/mistakes, this was written quite off the cuff. 
> 
> I'm never sure I've captured Garak's "voice" his headspace is so hard to get into. But I am really happy I've written so much dialogue, I've always found that incredibly difficult. 
> 
> This takes place sometime during the Dominion War, at a point when Bashir is exhausted, at the end of his rope without any outlet. He's also realized he's attracted to Garak. 
> 
> Does he know this should be handled differently? Yes. Absolutely.
> 
> But he also still sees Garak as just a bit untouchable, dangerous. Julian's not sure he wants to become involved beyond friendship, but he can't help himself from needling Garak. From dipping his toes into the water. Realizing Garak's earlier flirtation, and thinking Garak isn't interested anymore. That he's being ignored, and put off. This is both their breaking points.

"And then around 02:00 she invited me up to her quarter's for _raktajino_ with her partner, told me he's publishing a paper on _interspecies cultural practices_ of a certain _intimate_ variety and, well... I suppose you don't need me to tell you what happened after that."

"Doctor your face appears to be twitching."

"What?"

"Ahh, the spasm seems to have stopped."

A pause.

Bashir shifted in his chair, clearly attempting to hide a wince and then a smirk behind his double _raktajino._

"God I'm still so bloody sore, I should have grabbed my spare dermal regenerator before going to the infirmary." 

A rather lewd smile was spreading across the younger man's face.

Human's did bare their teeth with disconcerting regularity. But this was the _third encounter_ that Bashir had imparted over lunch in the span of eight weeks, and the second reference to another male.

It was rather amusing, Garak found the doctor's eyes to be the greatest pleasure on display. They darted like nervous prey between various objects, sometimes people, yet always returned to his companion to see if he’d garnered a reaction.

What was that Federation phrase he'd heard Chief O'Brien mutter darkly? _Once is chance, twice is a coincidence, three times is a pattern._

That line of logic would have seen him dead by coincidence many times over.  Cardassians had different words to explain such events, _enemy action_ came to mind.  


This _pattern_ as Chief O'Brien would have called it would need to be gently handled or pointedly ignored.  


A kinder man would have taken the good doctor’s clear exhaustion into consideration. The war was taking its toll on each of them, Bashir wore his beneath the eyes and in the slight tremble of his hands.  


By some rough calculations the poor man must have been awake for nearly 63 hours, and _Union_ only knew how many hours he'd slept before that.

A fragile emotional state had left the young man so painfully exposed, ragged at the edges. _Vulnerable_. 

Garak gave a soft disinterested sigh.

"Hmm, what a strange story, doctor. I'm afraid you will need to explain, it all seems rather unlikely." 

"Unlikely? What do you mean by that?" 

"My dear, it's not that your story doesn't have merit. But rather certain elements are... lacking. I certainly see potential, doctor. I hope I haven't insulted you. Indeed I am delighted you've begun taking my words more seriously. _Why_ _tell a truth when a lie will do?_ Certainly a worthy place to start in answer to any question, I am even fairly confident _others_ would have believed you. Chief O'Brien would certainly have no questions to such a tale! Yet, it's in the little details such lies begin to unravel. Similar to your uniforms after a bit of wear."

"Garak, I am not lying, I'm not practicing any....I can't believe you don't believe me! Why would I lie about this?" 

"In your own words, doctor _why tell the truth when a lie will do?"_

"I never said that! You did." 

"I do appreciate your early attempts, amateur and ill thought out as they may be, but perhaps you might begin running these through a few more _likely_ sources. I mentioned Chief O'Brien already but Rom would certainly make an easier mark if you'd like some practice. I am a tad more experienced with deception than most on the station, being a tailor, one always worries about being taken advantage of by unscrupulous customers." 

A snort. 

"Hmmm, these strange twitches and noises are beginning to be just a bit much, doctor." 

"It's ridiculous, Garak. I tell you about my night after you complain through half our lunch about the three Nausicaan customers you had yesterday, and then you immediately accuse me of lying. Based on, what? My _lack of details_?"

  
The Cardassian released what Bashir would have termed a _dramatic_ almost hissing sigh, and shook his head. 

"Oh, very well. I must inform you that your efforts at subtlety needs work doctor. I cannot deny your need of _instruction,_ perhaps a bit of hand holding _._ I can see you attempting to wheedle a lesson out of me with all the slyness of a feral riding hound. To begin, I have heard several humans say that the _details are in the devils-"_

_"_ That's not wha-" 

" _Of course,_ I don't pretend to understand Federation attempts at proper idiom's, or their persistent use of outdated mythology in your language. You have all the foundations of a proper lie- a setting, a series of elaborate _rather unbelievable_ characters, the lubrication of excessive alcohol does lend some credibility to your fumbling attempts, any inconsistencies or exaggerations are easily allotted to your drunken remembering's. I'm afraid your mistake is in the _raktajino_ , my dear." 

"First, I was _not_ drunk. There was no-I don't fumble. I might have had a few Altair Water's, but just a few since I wasn't on call for the first week in nearly three months. Second, why would my date inviting me back for _raktajino_ be suspicious? I- I am not _inept_. And most importantly, I am not trying to get lessons on-" 

A pause. His lunch companion's irritated gaze drifted and unfocused. Then a deep breath. An odd tightening of Bashir's brow and lips.

"May I continue, Doctor Bashir?" 

A jerky nod of approval. 

" _Raktajino_ contains caffeine, a powerful stimulant for many humanoid species. By your account this took place around 02:00, I have never seen you consume _raktajino_ after 16:00 when you aren't on shift. Nor, does it appear to be common or medically advisable for humans to take stimulants at such an hour. I find it highly unlikely, but a sign of clearly suspicious behavior that this person would offer _raktajino,_ to a human at such an hour. Really doctor, if it wasn't such an obvious lie, I would advise reporting the interaction to the good Constable. I cannot imagine this woman and her partner had innocent intentions." 

Another one of those snorts, Bashir's eyeroll only seemed to present his irritable exhaustion in greater relief. The dreadful florescent lighting had finally found its use.

"Oh yeah, she definitely didn't have anything _innocent_ planned for me," 

Another of those irritating facial twitches.

"And her partner," 

A slow lewd smirk.

"He certainly wasn't _ahh_ what anyone would call _virtuous_ either. 

Bashir shifted in his seat, then froze, looking uncomfortable for a moment, and then relaxed. The boy's face was so unguarded. Practically flayed open, his eyes most of all. Another spasm of his face, they seemed to have fully centered on his right eye. 

"Doctor your face appears to be repeatedly twitching."

The man eyes returned to Garak. 

"What?"

"Oh dear, it it involuntary? I wasn't aware that human faces twitched in such a manner, it's really quite alarming. Does it indicate a particular emotion, or a more pressing medical concern? I have heard you say, that doctor's are often your most difficult patients. You would certainly know, my dear, my own previous experience with human doctors, limited as it may be, seems to confirm this."

"I'm the _only_ human doctor you talk to."

"I did say I was somewhat limited. What do you call them... size samples? Well, the size of my sample might have been limited, but you can hardly argue with 100% confirmation rate."

"That's the whole point of a sample size, Garak. It's supposed to be large enough to represent an entire population of people on a specific point of inquiry, a sample size of one is hardly reliable or statistically significant of anything." 

Frustration was evident in his voice and in the hands that gripped his hair. 

"My dear doctor, I am merely quoting your own words. I certainly can't be held responsible if you've chosen to show your Federation bias in such simple matters, I certainly don't have much experience with the medical profession. Yet, as a tailor I do credit myself some small familiarity with anatomy, minor things you understand. Where to _cut,_ the more delicate work is in how one _separates_ fabrics to reveal what lies beneath, lay it bare one might say. However, I won't have you distracting me with talk of work, I'm sure sewing an inseam holds nothing but tedious boredom for you. " 

"Oh dear, your face appears to be twitching again. It's in another place, I really must express my concern. Is it normal for such facial ticks to move? In my line of work involuntary muscle spasms are rather concerning, especially if they're unexpected, I have very steady hands but sharp objects to tend to slip." 

"We had sex Garak! It's a wink! We fucked. _Rak_ _tajino_ is code for sex. I fucked her, she fucked me, he fucked me, I fucked him. All three of us. The sex. We did it. How many different ways do I have to bloody say it! I'm not fucking lying, they invited me up to their quarters and we spent hours going at it like _voles in heat_."

Doctor Bashir let out several nonverbal noises when Garak moved to interrupt.

"No, you haven't me get a work in edgewise. God, I was trying to be discreet! I've been complaining I'm _sore in so many places_ all morning. I thought, you of all people would get the message. I might not be a spy, but it doesn't take a fucking code breaker to understand someone sliding their hand up your thigh, breathing in your ear about _a bit of pleasurable company,_ to get the _damn_ message. Haven't had a more blatant come on since I was a cadet. I thought something so _obvious_ might offend your _rigid Cardassian sensibilities_. But apparently, I need to spell it out. If you invite someone to your quarters for _raktajino and some pleasurable company_ the message is pretty _fucking_ clear!"

Slowly, he seemed to calm himself. The startling redness retreated, before returning and spreading down the young doctor's neck as he seemed to remember their prominent, very public location on the Promenade. An uncharacteristically _silent_ Promenade. Three meters to Garak's left, out of Bashir's line of sight, Quark was holding a holorecorder. Mouth agape. For once, even Morn was silent. 

The doctor's delightful passion was quickly morphing into horror and embarrassment. 

Garak rose from his chair, aware of his flushed neckridges exposed under the harsh Promenade lights, and brushed himself off, Bashir's eyes following his hands.

Stalking closer to his _dear_ doctor the man startled and looked likely to say something trite, until Garak wrapped a hand around his wrist. He took a moment to feel that thundering pulse, the _heat_ made it difficult to let go, and Bashir's eyes snapped away from his hands to meet his gaze. Eye contact was essential at this stage. Almost as important as the heat radiating off that soft skin, and the low thrum widening in his chest. Slide a hand up the boy's arm, warmth muted by fabric but still a brand against his skin.

Garak set both hands firmly on tense shoulders, enjoying the flesh and pulse that pounded beneath. Leaning down, his mouth then nose brushed against the man's throat, lingering when a lovely hitching breath was his reward. Restraining a bite to _breath_ into that ear:

" _My dear Doctor, have I made myself clear this time?"_


End file.
